


Limbo Days

by feathersburnt



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Self-Indulgent, nezumi brings home tea, sort of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-28 23:37:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3874141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feathersburnt/pseuds/feathersburnt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the days before the Hunt, life for Nezumi and Shion is painfully domestic</p>
            </blockquote>





	Limbo Days

**Author's Note:**

> such a self indulgent fic tbh  
> basically a little look into how the days between the plan's formation and the actual execution went down  
> Technically in canon

Days in limbo happened often before the Hunt came. The plan had already been established, but the tenseness in the air was palpable, and there were plenty of times where either of the two of them would find the other lost in thought—miles away inside their head. 

Things were quiet, and daily activities were painfully domestic.

Neither of them had anything to do. Inukashi was more occupied with information gathering than dog washing, and Nezumi had no plans of performing anytime soon, so they focused on small tasks. Errands, and finding their next meal. 

One day, Nezumi came back with a small box of tea to have with their usual stew. He said he made a “dea”l with the food salesman, and Shion didn’t protest, despite Nezumi’s vague explanation. Both of them could use something even slightly out of the stiff routine they’d fallen into for a change. 

“Thank you, Nezumi,” Shion broke the silence that had settled between them, his head peeking out from behind a bookshelf where he’d been distracting himself with reorganizing the extensive library.

His dark haired companion responded with a soft grunt and a slight nod, more paying attention to the preparation of their meal. Nezumi’s sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, the superfiber cloak draped over the side of the couch, and he’d discarded his shoes a while before. 

Shion bit his lip, stepping out from behind the shelf and crossing the space between them. He could see Nezumi’s grey eyes flit in his direction, but he didn’t move to face him. Still chewing his lip, the white haired boy slipped his arms around Nezumi’s waist, letting his cheek rest between the other’s shoulder blades.

Nezumi stiffened. He didn’t pull away, but he was certainly paying attention, his movements stirring the soup coming to a stop. They lapsed into silence again, the quiet sounds of their breathing filling the room and the inconsistent thud of both of the two’s heartbeats between them.

“Nezumi…” Shion breathed, his eyes closing. Truth is, he was scared. He didn’t know how this plan of theirs would carry out, and he wasn’t sure that they’d be able to succeed. More than anything, he just wanted things to go back to how they were, his family and best friend safe, and above all the familiarity of living in this small apartment with Nezumi. He wanted his companion to be free of what burdened him, and he didn’t want all of the barriers between them either. He still didn’t know his real name.

“Thank you,” he spoke up again, repeating himself. “For letting me stay here, for saving me… For helping me save Safu.”

Nezumi let out a breath, and his body relaxed, seeming to lean ever so slightly into Shion’s embrace. 

“Haven’t I told you not to waste your words, you naïve little Prince?” he sighed quietly, looking over his shoulder. There was no malice in his voice, none of the usual coldness. 

Shion opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again, shifting to press his face into Nezumi’s shoulder blade once again, his arms tightening a little. 

His eyes reopened as he felt familiar hands close around his, and Shion looked up. Gently, Nezumi detached himself from Shion’s arms, releasing his hands with a lingering brush of fingers, and let his own hand rise to cup Shion’s cheek. 

“Shion…” Nezumi released another soft sigh, mentally scolding himself at just how easily this boy could draw them out of his lungs, and let his thumb trace the scar along the other’s cheek. He bit back another exhale as he felt Shion lean into the touch of his hand, and he ran his fingers through the snow-white hair. 

“Get the tea ready, dinner will be ready soon,” he murmured, willing the moment to pass and the feel of Shion’s skin to slip out of his grasp before the two of them went too far. They couldn’t afford this, as tempting as it was, how much he hated to admit the attachment he had to the person before him. He’d said he wanted them to be equals, but in reality they shouldn’t even be on the same wavelength. They couldn’t afford to get attached, because neither of them could predict what might happen later on, and if they could minimalize on the overall suffering that was sure to come, then maybe they could survive. 

He turned back to the stove, trying to shake off the way that he could still feel that warmth against his back and focus on finishing their meal, dipping a spoon in and dealing out the meager amount of soup he’d managed to produce. Two steaming bowls were placed on the table, the cooking pot replaced by a dented kettle, and two bodies settled on the couch to eat in silence. 

The days that they had together were dwindling, and they could both feel it.

So maybe they sat a little closer on the couch, knees and shoulders bumping, red and grey eyes meeting longer and more frequently than either would typically permit, and just maybe their chances of waking up with limbs tangled and warmth shared went up as well. 

That night was a cold one, even with slightly watery tea still lingering in their systems, and for once, the both of them were conscious when they gravitated towards each other, fingers timidly linking together and Nezumi’s chin coming to rest on the top of Shion’s head, finding comfort in how he always seemed to fit into the crook of his neck.


End file.
